


The Luncheon

by Xenobotanist



Category: Star Trek: Deep Space Nine
Genre: Cardassian Culture, Flirting, Getting Together, Idiots in Love, M/M, No beta we die like Jem'Hadar, POV Alternating, Requited Love, but you know me i proofread like ten times, yearning touches
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-02-06
Updated: 2021-02-06
Packaged: 2021-03-18 00:40:08
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,576
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/29234670
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Xenobotanist/pseuds/Xenobotanist
Summary: Sometimes all it takes is one little touch.
Relationships: Julian Bashir & Elim Garak, Julian Bashir/Elim Garak, Nog & Jake Sisko, Nog/Jake Sisko
Comments: 23
Kudos: 83





	The Luncheon

**Author's Note:**

> Don’t ask me where this came from, because I don’t actually know. Expect highschool-levels of jumbled feelings at the experience of sitting way too close to your crush.

It was Captain Sisko’s fault. And Worf’s. Mostly Jake’s.

But it definitely couldn’t be laid at Garak’s feet.

It was Captain Sisko’s fault for throwing the party: his yearly buffet luncheon that celebrated the Bajorans’ Family and Friends Festival. As Doctor Bashir’s lunchtime companion, Odo’s occasional breakfast partner, and Keiko O’Brien’s “gardening buddy” (Garak preferred “Cardassian botany consultant''), the exiled Cardassian found himself invited not once but thrice over to the station leader’s shindig this year. He could hardly turn it (and the offer of free  _ real _ food) down.

It was Worf’s fault for taking the seat Garak had mentally designated as his own. He always preferred to sit opposite the sweet young doctor during events like this so the two of them could share secret snarky glances at one another throughout the conversations without having to worry about an accidental brush of the hand while passing dishes or setting aside cutlery. But Worf had taken that spot to sit besides Jadzia, and Garak found himself somehow maneuvered into sitting in the chair directly to the left of Julian.

Most of the fault could be placed on Jake for his youthful impatience. Or perhaps enthusiasm for his Keiko O’Brien’s cooking. Instead of waiting a measly thirty more seconds for the plate of buttered cornbread to be passed his way, he stood up and leaned his lanky form diagonally halfway across the table to nab the bowl. This meant balancing on one leg next to the seat to the right of Julian, hovering over the doctor’s drink with his multi-hued sleeve nearly brushing across the heaping plate of food, and causing Julian to duck to the side, then scoot his chair away to avoid a face full of sweater vest.

This should have been all well and good, except for one thing.

One invisible, nearly inconsequential thing.

With the slight readjustments, Julian’s leg pressed up against Garak’s.

Not just the knee, but halfway up the thigh as well.

Shimmery blue polyester to black wool gabardine.

The pressure was tangible, the effect instantaneous and noticeable.

A tiny jump, barely more than a twitch. A frozen face, eyes wide. A blink, a swallow. 

Garak observed the changes, not even aware of his own stillness due to the sudden elevated rate of his heart, making it feel like a frantic regnar had been trapped inside his ribcage.

And Julian didn’t pull away his leg.

It remained.

Jake returned to his seat,  _ three _ crumbling blocks of cornbread in his grasp, fragments scattering across the table cloth like a Hansel and Gretl trail, none the wiser to the two pillars of raging turmoil he’d left in his wake.

To Garak, it was as if time had suddenly stopped and all sound ceased to exist. His leg was on fire. The hand still on his glass of water felt frigid in comparison.

To Julian, it was as if everything grew dramatically brighter and louder, like someone turned up the saturation and volume in a holosuite. It was certainly just as surreal.

He was touching Garak.

His leg, to be precise. 

But with  _ his _ leg.

They’d never brushed more than a foot here or there under the replimat table, and here they were practically skin to skin beneath his captain’s temporarily transported feast table.

He kept his face down, his cheeks burning, to hide whatever stunned expression he was sure his face had pulled. He was afraid to look up and see if anyone else had noticed, if he was caught out for what would appear to be a severe overreaction to someone’s poor table manners, but mostly terrified to see a bland and unaffected countenance on the friend next to him.

The friend he secretly harbored feelings for. Had for years now.

Julian hastily pulled himself together and finished piling whatever came his way onto his plate without even looking. It was with faint dismay that he realized one corner had been overtaken by beets. At least it was only a spoonful or two.

But his leg was  _ still _ against Garak’s. 

The tailor hadn’t drawn away.

Conversations rose and ebbed around the table, stories and exclamations passing in one ear and out the other. 

Neither he nor Garak participated in any. They simply focused on their food and drinks, tucking into the food with nervous haste and too-stiff backs and arms.

It was the fastest Julian had ever seen Garak eat before.

He even dropped a noodle. Julian had never seen his friend drop  _ anything _ before. His hands were practically shaking.

Of course, so were Julian’s.

Although not as much as his stomach. He was wound so tight the muscles in his sides were fluttering. He was surprised his food was staying down.

And they still hadn’t even met each other’s eyes.

At one point, Major Kira asked Julian to pass the Andorian salt. He did so easily but distractedly, an awkward reach over a mound of hasperat rolls, and it resulted in him shifting even  _ closer _ to Garak.

Now their feet were touching. The hems of their pants brushing together. Just a few centimeters more and it’d be their calves as well.

Were they sitting too closely together? Had anyone noted the proximity of their chairs?

It didn’t seem so. Everyone else was wrapped up in laughter and banter, sparkling eyes and nudging elbows. 

How could they not see the glowing cloud of electricity the two of them must be emanating? Not feel the waves of heat being emitted by their tense bodies? Not read the set of their shoulders or tightness of their lips?

Across from Julian, Worf was nodding to something Kasidy was saying, and he followed the Klingon’s gaze leftward until he, too, was facing the freighter captain. He pretended to be intent on what she had to say, but in reality he was trying to catch a glimpse of Garak out of the corner of one eye.

Did the Cardassian look a little paler than usual? Or was it that his neck ridges had grown darker? 

His hair looked so smooth, his scales oiled and slick. Touchable.

Julian dug his fingernails into his palms.

Garak looked up from his plate and caught the Human regarding him.

At first he looked startled. Caught off guard.

But then one side of his mouth turned up. His brow ridges raised infinitesimally. 

And he returned to his food. He sawed away with exacting precision at the replicated swampbeast steak dripping with yamok sauce.

The look might have been Julian’s imagination, except for one thing.

Garak flexed his foot.

It might almost have been a stretch. A realignment after having been in the same place for so long. Normal, even expected, when seated at a crowded table. But it resulted in Garak’s shin pushing up against Julian’s, and staying put.

Julian wasn’t even sure what happened next. His augmented brain made some snap decision in some subconscious part of his cortex, and the next thing he knew he was requesting a single tribble-in-a-blanket (which wasn’t actually a tribble) from Jadzia. This required another stretch in a vaguely Garak-y direction, only further than before. Reaching with his left hand would have put his armpit directly in the Cardassian’s face, so he held out his right. The left, instead, fell to his side and grabbed the seat of Garak’s chair to steady him. 

His nod and thank you were inattentive, the treat deposited on his plate with barely any heed at all. His entire being was focused on where his fingers were now touching Garak’s hip. Or maybe just under it. The  _ vastus lateralis  _ muscle, perhaps, but dangerously close to the  _ gluteus medius  _ and  _ maximus.  _ Just below the lateral caudal ridge.

Garak’s fork slipped off the side of his china, making a cringingly loud crack, but no one seemed to hear, thank the guls. Julian couldn’t actually be touching him  _ on purpose _ , could he? Sure, he had let their legs stay close throughout the meal, but he was a naturally tactile specimen of his species. Everyone knew that. And yes, he had seemed…  _ interested _ when Garak had increased the level of contact.

But to put a hand out? On Garak’s chair? Against Garak’s thigh? 

That was more acknowledgement than he would have expected, more intimate than he could have ever hoped, and more daring than he would have given the doctor credit for.

He fought the urge to rock to the side against that hot mammalian skin, thankful for years of training to resist temptation. He blindly speared something and plopped it in his mouth, tasting nothing more than sawdust. 

This was getting ridiculous. He was unacceptably compromised.

But there was absolutely no way he was going to stand up and put a stop to it.

Garak’s eyes darted around the table, gauging everyone’s level of engagement with one another. Jadzia had her arm on Worf’s shoulder, supporting her chin as she curled into his side and the couple discussed something or other with Kira and Odo. Captains Sisko and Yates were in a heated debate that was likely related to that human game called baseball. The O’Briens were cleaning up their daughter’s spilled drink while the little girl scampered off in search of adventure. Next to them, Rom’s mouth dropped open when Leeta nuzzled up to him and whispered something in his ear. Jake and Nog were excusing themselves to get into mischief. More than had already been caused, anyway.

He and Julian really were an island unto themselves in a sea of socialization. 

Before he lost his nerve, he set down his fork and dropped his hand casually to his side, where it landed on top of Julian’s.

Oh, the skin was so soft, even smoother than he’d remembered. He almost closed his eyes at the flood of emotions, too deep to deny and too strong to hide for long. 

The game was over before it’d barely begun.

Julian’s head swung over and down, unable to look away from where they were joined. “Garak-” he gasped in consternation. He leaned forward, questions in his eyes but unformed from his lips.

“Hey, are you two okay over there?” Kasidy interrupted, raising her eyebrows at them in apparent concern.

Garak tightened his grip just as Julian tried to steal his hand away. “Why yes, Captain. We just found ourselves in a little bit of a predicament. It would seem that some of my tailoring glue stayed behind on my scales, and I may have become attached to the dear doctor.” He raised their hands just above the table as proof.

The freighter captain laughed. “Oh my. Looks like you’re going to need a trip to infirmary.”

Odo took notice and frowned at them, but said nothing. No one else appeared to see or care.

Garak gave a curt nod. “I would agree. Wouldn’t you, doctor?”

Julian nodded enthusiastically. “Oh yes. I’ve got a de-adhesive gel and a dermal regenerator just for this sort of thing. Tell Ben thank you for this lovely meal.”

Hand in hand, the two of them made a hasty retreat out of the quarters. 

As soon as the door whooshed shut, Julian rounded about. “Garak, what-”

But he found himself pulled forward and his other hand taken as well.

“My dear Doctor, if I had known…” Garak lifted one hand and brought it up to his mouth, pressing his lips to the knuckles. The Human’s eyelids widened, and Julian trembled under his touch. “Would it be possible that you are just as affected by me as I am by you?” Garak pondered aloud.

Julian stepped closer, his brow wrinkled and jaw clenched, naked yearning etched in every anxious line. “I-I-I don’t know,” he stuttered. “Do you feel like you’re about to fly apart into a million pieces, or maybe trip over head-first into a black hole?”

“How fanciful and almost poetic,” Garak responded. He kissed another knuckle. “Nothing so chaotic as that. I merely feel as if the sands under my feet keep shifting and that one of these days I’m going to be tumbled right off a dune and into your arms.”

“Really?” The timidity faded away to be replaced with something more confident and resolute. “Like this?” Julian freed his other hand to curl around Garak’s waist and draw him forward until they were even closer than before, and much less chastely. He rolled the wrist in Garak’s grip until the Cardassian’s hand was within reach, and breathed over the back of it before brushing his mouth over the cool skin.

“Doctor-” Garak breathed raspily, eyes locked on where they were clasped together.

A cacophony of noise burst into the corridor as the door next to them whooshed open and closed. Jake and Nog dashed out of the party with laughter, the taller Human bowling into the dazed pair before he even saw them. 

Julian was shoved into Garak, who in turn was pitched into the bulkhead.

Jake jumped back with his hands up. “Whoa, sorry, didn’t see you there.” He took in the doctor and tailor swiftly pulling apart and straightening their clothes and nodded in appreciation. “Nice. Right out in the hall, huh?” He elbowed his Ferengi friend in the shoulder. “See? I told you they came together.”

Nog frowned slightly as he regarded Garak and Julian. 

Jake nudged him with his hip. “If dad doesn’t have any problem with his CMO dating the resident spy, why would he have a problem with me and you?” He turned to Julian. “What do you think, Dr. Bashir? What would my dad say about me and a Ferengi?”

Still recovering, Julian fidgeted. But he smiled as reassuringly as he could. “If it was  _ Quark _ , quite a few things. But I’m sure he’d approve of Ensign Nog.”

“How long have you two been together, anyway?” Jake nodded at Julian and Garak. He offered a shy smile to the side at his friend.

Julian looked at Garak. The tailor hid a grin and did what he did best. “How long do you  _ think _ we’ve been together?”

“I dunno. Maybe 6 months or so. Ever since you came back from the internment camp. Nog thinks you were together before that but broke up.” The Ferengi’s eyes flew wide open at that.

Garak addressed him with curiosity. “And why would you think that?”

The ensign looked down at the floor. “Cuz you stopped spending as much time together,” he answered gruffly. He threw a guilty glance at Jake.

Julian stepped in. “We did, that’s true. So Jake, why did that make you think Garak and I had, ah, gotten together then?”

Jake beamed at them. “Simple deduction. You two are  _ obviously _ infatuated with each other. There’s no good reason you’d just stop seeing one another. So I figure something  _ big _ happened while you were locked up, and it made you finally realize your feelings. And when you got back, you started seeing each other  _ in secret _ , because you didn’t want anyone to know.” His expression went from smug to panicked. “Oh god. Dad doesn’t know, does he?”

Garak raised his brows. “No, he does not.”

Julian shuffled closer and wrapped an arm around the tailor’s waist. “But we’re thinking of telling him, aren’t we?” He placed a loud, showy smack on Garak’s cheek. Garak tried not to twitch at the public display of affection or the implications of what the Human was saying. If he was being serious. “He’s so  _ shy _ about it,” Julian stage-whispered to Jake and Nog. “ _ I  _ wanted to tell the Captain right away, but he was worried about what it would do to my reputation to be involved with a Cardassian.” He sighed. “He’s so gallant.”

Incredible. Julian was  _ teasing _ him.

Well. Garak wasn’t about to be outdone.

“I suppose we have kept up this farce for too long,” Garak commented. “Everyone is bound to find out sooner or later. Just look at our young friends here.” Jake and Nog moved closer together, unsure of the attention being directed at them. Garak turned Julian toward him and held a finger under his chin. “Perhaps we should march ourselves back into the party and announce the… change in our relationship.”

Julian blinked rapidly while Jake elbowed Nog again. The Ferengi seemed to get an excited idea, and he pulled his friend to the side for a low, fierce discussion. They turned around only moments later with goofy grins on their faces. 

“What if… what if me and Jake go back in and tell Captain Sisko about us? You know, something to get him used to the idea of a Federation and non-Federation couple. Then, in a few days, you can tell him about  _ you.” _ Nog lifted his chin, looking very proud of himself.

Garak tilted his head in acquiescence. “How very noble of you. We appreciate the sacrifice, my young friend.”

The boys laughed in giddiness, smiling at each other in fondness and awkwardly joining hands before waving their goodbye, and rejoined the party.

Julian huffed in amusement. “That was unexpected. But adorable. What an afternoon.” He glanced bashfully at Garak. “Did you mean that, or were you just messing around?”

The Cardassian stared back with a blank face. “Mean what?”

“That we’re going to… change the status of our relationship? Tell Captain Sisko about it? Or were you just, I don’t know, trying to manipulate them into doing what they just did?”

“Oh, they hardly needed any manipulation at all. They were just looking for an excuse, and I gave them one.”

Julian frowned. “Well, I hope you know that they’re not going to be able to keep quiet about this. They really think we’re a couple, and they’re going to tell  _ everyone _ they know.”

Garak stepped forward again. “Maybe we shouldn’t make them into liars then.”

“Garak. Garak, are you serious?” Julian looked afraid to hope, but he still moved closer.

Everything that had transpired in the past hour swirled through Garak’s mind, putting him on edge but in a way that felt more like he was about to leap than fall. He’d given Julian crumbs of the truth over the years, but he wondered now what it would be like to share a complete and unmitigated fact. “My dear Doctor. Years ago, my father gave you my first name. Six months ago, you shared his shri-tal with me. On Cardassia, that’s as good as a betrothal.”

Julian covered his mouth. “You’re joking.” He dropped his hand, looking suspicious. “Like the time you told me to eat that rod in your quarters. It’s a joke.”

Oh, to tell the truth and not have it believed. Maybe there was something to that ‘boy who cried wolf’ tale, after all. But this was easily remedied. “Why don’t we retire to your residence and we can look it up together? Do you still have that copy of the Vulcan Guide to Cardassian Cultural, Economic, and Legal Practices? I believe that is usually the resource you quote whenever you disagree with what I tell you about my people’s traditions and beliefs.”

“I-I do. Are you saying that if we go pull that file up, I’m going to find out you and I are engaged? Garak, were you ever going to  _ tell _ me?” He looked up and down the hallway as if he was expecting some new surprise to jump out at him.

Garak clasped his hands primly behind his back. “I do believe I’m telling you now. Besides, there still remains the distinct possibility that I’m lying.” With barely restrained mirth, he watched the parade of confused expressions cross his beloved’s face. “Come, let’s conduct our research to get this all cleared up.”

Julian stopped him with a hand to his chest. “Oh no. Not yet. I’m not going to find out I’m affianced to you without at least a kiss first. A real one.” They moved together until they were chest to chest. “I can’t believe it,” the Human murmured. “This morning I was wondering about when I should finally ask you out on an official date, this afternoon, I was playing footsie with you, and this evening…” He trailed off, taking a shaky but elated breath. “Oh god, I don’t know what this evening is going to bring, but I can’t wait.”

They were already closing the distance between their faces when Garak’s hands came up to take Julian’s arms and Julian rested his hands on Garak’s waist. It was as natural as breathing how they folded together, and when their lips met, it didn’t feel like a first kiss at all. It felt like they’d been slowly circling for years now and were at long last closing the gap between them. An amalgamation of tea and lunches, stories and secrets, adventures and exploits. But also teasing remarks, coy glances, and more than the fair share of penetrating gazes.

When they broke apart, Julian took Garak’s hand in much the same manner Jake had taken Nog’s. He led them jubilantly down the corridor in the direction of his quarters, delighting in the feel of cool, gray fingers wound through his own. 

If it was up to him, he’d never let go.

Garak accompanied him in a befuddled but lovestruck haze. He hadn’t anticipated this, not one bit. But nothing in station or space was going to make him take it back.

Yes, all of this was definitely Jake’s fault. Twice over, really.

Garak was going to have to thank him. 

**Author's Note:**

> I didn’t plan any of this out. Nothing beyond the legs touching. It all just sort of happened. Crazy, huh?


End file.
